Dare to Hope

Sometimes when I think about how next week (the 9th) I start injections… and how they’re supposed to work… and work for up to a month (sometimes 2)… I start to get hopeful.

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I start to remember what it was like to have free use of my own body.  What it was like to take off to the lake at sunset and walk around until the sun went down.  What it was like to meander around with my camera.  

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I remember doing the Kelby Photowalk the first time, and hiking around downtown without worrying about spoons, without being distracted and driven half-mad with pain.

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I dare to hope that maybe for a short time… I might get that back.

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But I keep stopping myself from making actual plans.  Because there’s still a 20% chance of getting a placebo.  Because there’s still always a chance that even if I get the drug it might not work.

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And I’m scared about that too.  

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Because I feel like there’s a really good chance that… at least for awhile, I might actually get my life back.

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And I think maybe I’m scared that I’ll get used to it- and then it’ll all fall apart again.

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I am more afraid of that then I am of my actual cancer coming back.